


Small Kindness

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Series: Outside Looking In [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-15
Updated: 2003-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:51:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville visits a friend in the infirmary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to millefiori and elynross for doing the beta on this.

The wall was cold against Neville's back. He'd managed to wedge himself in the shadows just outside the infirmary, behind a statue of a Wizard with a huge handlebar mustache. He was certain no one could see him, but he couldn't help worrying about it. He wiped his hands against his robe, and wished that he knew some way to make sure he couldn't be seen.

Time dragged on. Neville shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and back again. He waited patiently -- he was good at waiting -- and let the cool darkness wrap him in its embrace. The low mutters of the worried professors provided a gentle music that he could relax into and enjoy. At last, he saw the Headmaster and Professor Snape sweep out of the room, leaving the infirmary in peace.

He crept in, and carefully walked over to the bedside, to stare at the golden-haired man lying there, eyes shut, covers tucked under his chin. "Professor?" Neville said quietly. "Professor Lockhart?"

His eyes fluttered open. Sharp and bright still, but without the energy he'd once had. Neville reached down and squeezed his hand. "I'm Neville, one of your students. I brought you something." He had to let go as he reached into his pocket, but he continued to stare as he fumbled to find his gift.

The man in the bed looked little like the man Neville remembered. What a force he'd been in the classroom, how he'd made Neville squirm with a combination of terror and a need to live up to expectations. Lockhart had been assured and cheerful, no matter what happened. Even when those pixies had gotten out, he'd been matter of fact about how easily the mess could easily be taken care of. Confident. He had faith that if he couldn't handle it, someone else could, so you could just leave the place and wait for the next one to come along.

Nothing in Neville's experience said that other people looked out for you like that. Yet when Lockhart was around, Neville could almost believe that someone would come and get him out of the mess he'd made, or even that he would be able to fix it on his own. He knew his skills were horrible, yet Lockhart had acted as if Neville could do anything the other students could, from writing an essay to banishing a pixie. It was odd to have a teacher confident in his skills. It was even odder that when Lockhart had been around, Neville had believed it too.

Thrusting his hand into the hole in his robe's inner lining, Neville finally found what he'd been looking for. "Here. I thought you might need this later." He placed it on the palm of the professor's hand, where it glowed red in the dim light.

"It's lovely." Lockhart's voice brought a lump to Neville's throat. There was no confidence in him now, just an ocean of wonder, and something within Neville felt like it cracked. "What is it?"

"It's a remembrall." Neville said softly, just as he spoke to his parents, picking the ball up and turning it. "It glows red when you've forgotten something."

Lockhart shifted in his bed, pulling himself up a bit so he could get a better look. "They say that I've forgotten a lot of things." He picked the ball up and held it to the light, so he could see it flicker and glow.

Neville nodded, the fragile hope within him shattering and turning to dust. "I forget things too."

Lockhart looked bemusedly at him, and Neville felt himself flush. "I won't need it," he said hurriedly. "I remember things a lot better now." He wanted to stammer and hide, just disappear into the floor from the force of that look. It was honest and trusting, and the weight of it bore down on Neville more than anything else could. He didn't deserve to have anyone look at him like that. He always made a mess of it. "I thought you might like it."

"I would. Thank you." Lockhart said and smiled, tucking the remembrall under his pillow again. He yawned and stretched, then settled back against the bed. "Good night."

Neville nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wanted to cry out, to shake Lockhart and make him the man Neville remembered, but that would never happen. It was as useless as wishing his parents would remember him. Instead, he pulled the covers up to Lockhart's shoulders, patted him, and left.

Shutting the door behind him, Neville leaned against it, his heart pounding. He swallowed, and swallowed again, not believing what he'd done. He'd violated curfew and snuck into the infirmary by himself to give a present to a teacher. Not even Hermione would have dared that.

Trembling, he pulled himself away from the door, and headed back to the common room. It was even colder now than it had been when he hid outside the infirmary door, and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm as he walked. He'd overheard that Lockhart was being sent to St. Mungo's. Perhaps he would check on him when he visited his parents, and they could talk. Neville brightened a bit, thinking about how he would finally have someone to talk to about Hogwarts, his classes, and what subjects he wasn't passing. He knew Lockhart wouldn't judge him for his failures. He wouldn't even remember them.


End file.
